A Guy Without His Girl
by Mylee
Summary: Exactly why is Jim brooding by the fire on Trixie's prom night? Read on to find out!


**A Guy Without His Girl**

A few summers ago, the Bob-Whites worked together to create their own fire pit. The girls found the perfect place for it, down at the lake. Old bricks were collected and recycled into making the pit. Lawn chairs of various shapes, sizes and colors were donated and then stored in the boathouse so that they could pull one out whenever they needed it. Dan made sure there was an endless supply of freshly chopped wood for the fire. It was simple; a far cry from the ultra-modern one (and ultra-expensive one) that Matthew Wheeler had installed in the gardens of the Manor House, one that was rarely used by the Bob-Whites. Their collective preference was their homemade one down by the lake.

Jim unfolded his chair and unceremoniously plopped down on it, looking unseeingly into the fire he'd started a few minutes earlier. It was already going well but he didn't take notice of its progress. He couldn't see the shifting of the bright red-orange blaze or the smoke as it swirled up into the darkening late spring sky. No, instead he was seeing a lovely young woman coming down the staircase of his house, only a few short hours ago. He let out a loud, disgruntled groan and dropped his head in hands, defeated. It couldn't prevent the memory, though. It flowed on and on, over and around him, jabbing at him when he would prefer it to stop. Dressed in a gorgeous floor-length pale peach gown, held up by thin spaghetti straps, her bountiful golden curls piled up high, and a neckline that he deemed exceedingly low, she had been a vision. An exquisite vision of pure loveliness. Hell, he swore that his tongue had actually stuck to the roof of his mouth when he'd first seen her descend the stairs with Honey and Di. His palms had started to sweat. His heart rate had picked up. And the most horrible part of all, the part that had driven him out of the house in order to find some much-needed solitude…she wasn't dressed up for him. She hadn't been walking towards him. She hadn't even been smiling in his direction. Nope, it was all for someone else. Someone who was not Jim Frayne. His lips pulled back into a feral snarl.

Needing to do something physical, he stood up and picked up a stone. He strode over to the shore of the lake and sent it soaring high in the sky. He felt a smidgeon of satisfaction when it landed out in the gently lapping water with a loud splash. He followed it up with a second throw, then a third. Each splash was more spectacular than the previous one. All the while he berated himself. He was a total jerk, a complete ass. He'd been so caught up in his college career, so excited about his year abroad in England, and so proud of his internship at that private school across the pond, he hadn't even considered what was going on in Sleepyside or how someone very special to him was growing up. He hadn't paid close enough attention to Honey's lengthy emails. He hadn't realized that the girls' senior prom was happening shortly after he returned to Sleepyside. It just never occurred to him. He'd been so busy and so focused on excelling in his schooling and at his internship. It was as simple, and as complicated, as that.

A series of happy, disgustingly cheerful whistles split the air, cutting into his dark thoughts. With the reflexes of a wounded wolf, Jim lifted his head in the direction and correctly identified the owner of the unwanted sound. He let out a low growl of disgust, frustrated that he wasn't going to be able to lick his wounds in private, and frowned out into the night. He was not in the mood for any company, let alone the particular company that was currently strolling towards the boathouse. Frustrated, he stalked back to his chair and sat down, an unwelcome scowl smeared across his face.

Dan came out of the boathouse with a chair tucked under his arm and a cold can of soda in his hand. Knowing Jim would find it frustrating, he continued his series of happy, off-key whistles, just to annoy him further. A proper tone needed to be set and he was damn well going to set it right. "Why, hello there, Frayne," he called out, approaching the silent and sullen man, and pointed at the fire. "Good idea. It's a beautiful night for a fire. Not many Bob-Whites are here, though. Looks like it's just you and me."

Jim didn't even deign to make a response. Frustrated that his solitude was being intruded upon, and being intruded upon by someone who would not let him stew in his own disgruntled juices, he continued to stare in the direction of the fire with a single-minded determination, hoping that Dan would take the unspoken hint and leave. It was a useless hope, but a hope nonetheless.

Dan wasn't Daniel Mangan for nothing. Correctly inferring the cause of Jim's unfriendliness, expecting nothing less, he gave a small, philosophical shrug and asked with just the right amount of exuberance, guaranteed to grate on Jim's rapidly fraying nerves, "Brooding tonight, are we?"

His head shot up. Emerald green eyes narrowed dangerously while his lips curled up in warning. "Don't."

Chuckling inwardly, Dan flipped open his lawn chair with a practiced flair and settled into it, making a big show out of getting comfortable. He stretched out his long legs, flipped back the top of his can of soda, and let out a long, low, contented sigh, settling in for the long haul. After taking a refreshing sip, he smacked his lips and declared brightly, "Now this is the life. Summer's just around the corner, college semesters are over, a refreshing drink, and an evening fire. Yup, just what the doctor ordered."

"Damn it. You're not going anywhere, are you?" Jim grumbled under his breath, his arms crossed over his chest, a portrait of pure petulance.

"Nope," Dan replied merrily, taking another long sip from his can. Wanting to pester Jim further, he let out an impromptu burp before going on the offensive. "So, what brings you out here? All alone? And looking like you've lost…something important? Like maybe…oh, I don't know…your best friend?"

An apt, and a very painful, way to describe it. The look Jim sent should have reduced Dan to a pile of smoldering ashes. Although he knew better than to engage, he snarled out, "Come on, Dan. You can drop the act. As if you didn't already know."

Dan let the annoyance bounce off him with another shrug. "What can I say? I have my suspicions."

Considering him, Jim arched a single eyebrow. His voice was low as he declared, "You're an ass, Mangan. The assiest of asses."

"I'll be sure to quote you on my resume." Pleased with the description, his unrepentant grin lit up the night. "Now, why don't we cut to the chase and you admit what's bothering you? It'll be a lot easier _and_ it would save a lot of time and energy…ahh, I mean frustration. Your frustration, by the way," he clarified cheerfully, waving his can around. "Not mine, I assure you. I'm happy to sit here all night long if need be. If you get up and leave, I'll just follow. I can poke and prod anytime, anywhere, without any problems."

Dan, damn him, was right. As usual. And, as usual, it would be easier in the long run to just get it over with. Blowing out an aggravated breath, Jim ran a hand through his hair and began slowly, "You know it's prom night for the girls, right?"

"Yup. Senior prom." Dan nodded sagely, observing Jim closely. "If I recall correctly, the girls were going to spend the afternoon at your house, getting ready for the big night together. Hair, make-up, fancy dresses, limo, photo-ops. The whole shebang. Right?"

Jim nodded and took a deep breath. He spoke evenly, trying not to let his emotions out. A useless endeavor. It was there in the downward curve of his mouth, plainly showing within the pained depths of his green eyes. "Their dates showed up awhile ago."

And therein lay the crux of the problem. Dan couldn't help but feel sorry for Jim. He looked so damn miserable. "As our reigning Bob-White duo, Di went with Mart. Honey's escort is Nick Roberts." He took another sip. Even though he already knew the answer, he inquired anyway, wanting to hear it from Jim, "And Trixie?"

"Some relative of Sergeant Molinson's, of all people." Jim kicked at some stones on the ground, his mouth curved in a line of disgust. Hell, he had hated watching the two of them together, smiling for the multitude of cameras. He hadn't wanted to draw too much attention to himself and hadn't asked any questions about Trixie's date even though he'd been dying to know everything. He managed to catch a little bit here and there from a conversation between his mother and Miss Trask, enough to whet his appetite, but not enough to get the full picture.

Dan was familiar with the story. Both Honey and Di had told him when he'd interrogated them about Trixie's date for the prom. Sergeant Molinson's sister and his nephew had moved in with him shortly before the school year started, after a lengthy and distressing divorce. She had needed a new place to start over, for her and her son, and Sleepyside certainly fit the bill. She became a waitress at Wimpy's and her son started his senior year at Sleepyside Junior-Senior High school with the girls. He was in a few classes with Trixie. They were friendly. Nothing serious. Just friends. In fact, Trixie had only recently agreed to be his date after his girlfriend had broken up with him a few weeks before the prom. He'd save that information for later, though. No need to share it right off the bat.

"She smiled at him. She even let him put a corsage on her." Luckily, it was only a wrist corsage. Jim didn't know what he would have done if her date had dared to pin one on her. It was also made of roses. Peach-colored roses. Not an orchid in sight. Hating the memory of Trixie smiling up at another man, wearing another man's flowers, he stood up and started pacing. Then he whirled around, threw up his arms, and barked out, "They even took pictures together, Dan. Pictures!"

Dan had to swallow back a chuckle. Jim looked absolutely, positively pitiful. Pathetic, even. It was quite a sight worth seeing. He leaned back in his chair. "Pictures, corsages, smiling…yeah, that's nothing new. If memory serves me right, it's par for the course for proms."

"Yeah, I know." Feeling crushed, Jim dropped back in his chair and ran his hands through his hair again. "It's stupid of me to be upset over it. I know that. It's just…that…" His voice trailed off, unable to finish the sentence.

Dan finished it for him. "It wasn't you."

Hearing it said out loud was even worse than just thinking it. Jim gave a short nod of agreement. There was no use denying it. "Exactly. And it freaking sucks."

Dan let the quiet surround them for a few minutes, pleased with the progress he'd made. Jim had been much more cooperative than he'd expected him to be. "You didn't ask her to the prom," he pointed out quietly, all teasing aside.

"I know." That was practically unforgivable. He had his reasons, sounds ones, too. He'd spent the entirety of his junior year of college abroad, in England, not even coming home for the holidays since he worked as an intern at a private school during vacations. Yesterday was the first time he'd set foot on Sleepyside soil since last July. He'd gained valuable experience, which had been his intentions all along, but he had never considered at what price. The price currently sucked.

Dan understood it but he couldn't resist declaring the obvious, "Life continues on without you here, you know. It doesn't stop just because you aren't here."

"I know that, too." Jim sighed and slouched down even further into his chair. "I guess I just didn't expect it to continue on…like this."

"And you've never even gone out on a date with Trixie," Dan continued on, speaking more of the blatant truth. "You two don't have any type of an understanding, other than being good friends and fellow Bob-Whites. And co-presidents, of course."

"Right again." Sometimes, swallowing a hefty dose of reality could be exceptionally difficult. And bitter; really, really bitter. Jim found he didn't like the taste of it, not one little bit. It tasted terrible.

"She can go on dates with anyone she wants," Dan continued to state the facts, wanting Jim to get the fullest picture possible.

The glare he aimed Dan's way was more potent than the flames dancing within the fire pit. "Again, I know that," he said through clenched teeth.

Dan chuckled softly and finished off the rest of his soda. "You may hate me for saying this but…if you knew all of this, really knew all of this, we wouldn't be sitting here, having this conversation."

Jim opened his mouth, closed it with a sharp snap, and then stared sullenly ahead. He didn't have any defense, couldn't come up with anything to say.

"Well, it seems to me, that you can either sit here, with your nose out of joint, all morose and miserable and such…" Dan paused intentionally, just to provoke Jim a little further.

"Or what?" Jim snarked back, hating the fact that he was reduced to asking for advice.

"Or you can actually go ahead and do something about it." The shadows of the fire danced across his face as he leaned in closer. Taking a deep breath, he shared a very important piece of news that Jim obviously didn't know about, "They went as friends. Only as friends."

A wisp of relief blew through him. "Friends?" Jim repeated incredulously, hardly daring to believe that it was true.

Dan gave a curt nod. "Yeah. Here's the complete story. His girlfriend broke up with him. You remember what high school drama can be like. He needed a date, to save face or something like that, since she was going to the prom with her new boyfriend, but everyone he knew already had a date. Honey and Di talked Trixie into it since she didn't have one for the prom yet. And that's it. That's the sum of the story. They aren't dating. They aren't boyfriend/girlfriend. She's just helping out a friend."

It was a much better scenario than he had expected. The relief grew and flourished. He rubbed his hand over his heart and sagged against the back of his chair. "Oh, man."

Dan wasn't finished with Jim yet. "But there will come a time when Trixie won't be going out with _just_ a friend or to help someone out of a tight spot. If you want that person to be you, then you'd better step up and step up fast. Before it's too late." He stood up and closed his chair with a smart snap, not expecting a response, and headed over towards the boathouse. He called back over his shoulder, "You've gotten a small taste of what it would be like. You've got to ask yourself if it's something you want to taste again. I can't help you with that, Jim. Only you can."

The recent thread of relief dissipated as swiftly as the tendrils of smoke billowing into the night sky. Jim didn't respond. Of course, Dan was right. It was annoying, freakishly so, but he was always right. He didn't know how long he sat there, watching the fire as the night grew increasingly darker around him, caught up in his own thoughts, and reflecting upon the conversation he'd just had. Finally, he stood up and went about the mundane process of putting the fire out. The embers hissed and popped in disapproval. Once he was sure the fire was safely out, he headed towards the Manor House, Dan's words continuously percolating throughout his mind. Enough with the fond glances and hand holding. He despised being a guy without his girl. It was about damn time he got his special girl.


End file.
